7 


P  N 

6161 

B682 

1908 

MAIN 


UC-NRLF 


Sir  Henry  Heyman 


8061  'II  NVr  iVd 

•eojg  pjoii£«£) 
jspuig 


rsi. 

Jfeatfjertoeigfifs! 

iWujsital 


Mrs.  Featherweight's 
Musical  Moments 


By 

SToijn  ^xsibp 

Illustrated  by  the  Author 


NEW  YORK 
PRINTED  AND  PUBLISHED  AT  THE 

GOERCK  ART  PRESS 
925  SIXTH  AVE. 


^-24- V  M.f,. 


CopyrigKt  1908 

ty 

Jonn  Brady 


"^^CIQ 


frf^p 


nR.^Qftd 


.;}'i;>lal:e.'-a. Point  of  Dressing  Simply" 


Mrs.  Featherweight  s  Musical 
Moments 


G 


^^/^  EORGE  says,"  complained  Mrs.  Feather- 
weight to  her  caller,  "that  I  look  like  a  moun- 
tain peak  covered  with  snow  in  my  white 
gown.  Do  you  think  it  makes  me  look — a — 
larger?  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so, 
dearie.  Men  are  such  brutes.  I  am  sure  after 
marrying  three  times  I  ought  to  know.  My 
dear,  they  are  like  peas  in  a  pod,  some  big,  some 
little,  but  only  peas  after  all.  You  know  I  abhor  being 
conspicuous  and  always  make  a  point  of  dressing  simply. 
Just  because  I  wore  some  few  pieces  of  jewelry  to  the 
opera  the  other  night,  George  said  I  looked  like  a  jewel- 
ler's show-case  with  all  that  junk  on.  Yes,  he  called  it 
junk.  I  tried  to  explain  that  I  consider  it  a  duty  one  does 
the  artists  to  look  a  little  bit  festive,  but  you  might  as 
well  save  your  breath.  Men  have  no  conception  of  the 
proprieties  as  we  understand  them.  I  just  told  him  then 
and  there,  that  if  I  waited  until  he  asked  me  to  go  any- 
where, but  to  one  of  his  old  vaudeville  shows,  I  would  be 
dead  and  in  my  grave.  He  hasn't  a  spark  of  sympathy, 
and  laughed  in  the  most  hateful  way.  You  can't  drag 
him  to  the  opera  and  he  always  sleeps  through  a  concert. 
And  would  you  believe  it,  dearie,  before  we  were  married 
he  pretended  to  like  Wagner.  He  calls  Fido  'Siegfried' 
because  he  says  he  yelps  just  like  a  german  tenor.  You 
may  laugh,  dearie,  but  I  think  it  is  perfectly  disgusting 
to  talk  so.  My  dear,  take  my  advice  and  never  let  a  man 
suspect  that  you  think  he  is  funny  or  your  life  will  be 
a  burden.  What  I  have  suffered  with  my  sensitive 
nature  nobody  will  ever  know.  I  suppose  it  is  because 
of  my  musical  temperament.  You  know,  before  I  was 
first  married,  everybody  thought  I  would  go  in  for  grand 


opera,  I  had  such  a  lovely  voice.  People  said  it  was  very 
much  like  Patti's  with  the  advantage  of  a  dramatic 
quality.  My  waist  measure  was  sixteen  inches  and  I 
might  have  had  a  career,  and  probably  be  at  the  Manhat- 
tan now.  Nordica  and  I  are  about  the  same  age.  But, 
my !  hasn't  her  voice  gone  off  dreadfully.  I  do  wish  she 
would  retire  before  people  begin  to  say  things.  Those 
newspaper  critics  are  such  a  cold  blooded  set.  No,  I 
don't  know  any  of  them,  but  they  are  men  and  that  is 
enough  for  me.  Zenatello  has  a  magnificent  voice.  The 
upper  register  is  particularly  fine.  Of  course,  he  isn't  a 
Caruso,  but  what  of  that?  You  wouldn't  want  all 
tenors  to  sing  alike.  I  am  not  Caruso  mad.  I  grant  all 
you  say  about  his  voice,  but  artistically  he  does  some  of 
the  most  glaringly  vulgar  things.  Why  shouldn't  I 
know?  I  was  brought  up  on  Lehmann  and  Jean  de 
Reszke,  and  if  you  live  to  be  a  thousand  years  old  you 
will  never  hear  two  greater  artists.  Mrs.  Pushbutton 
says  it  provokes  her  to  hear  me  go  on  as  if  I  knew  it  all. 
I'm  sure  I  don't  pretend  to,  but  I  certainly  know  good 
singing.  At  least,  I  am  not  going  to  let  other  people's 
ears  do  my  listening  for  me.  Now,  Gerville  Reache  has 
one  of  the  most  appealing  contraltos  I  have  heard  in 
ages,  and  yet  Mrs.  Bumptious,  who  is  really  quite  musi- 
cal, can't  bear  her  voice,  calls  her  a  female  baritone.  To 
hear  her  talk  you  would  think  she  was  the  only  person 
in  the  world  who  knew  anything  about  voice  placing. 
By  the  way,  do  you  remember  Signorina  Gilhooley  who 
used  to  do  millinery  and  manicuring?  Well,  she  has 
gone  in  for  deep  breathing  and  voice  placing.  Isn't  it 
perfectly  awful?  But  I  will  say  this  for  her,  she  cer- 
tainly had  the  real  French  touch  with  a  feather.  Who 
are  you  studying  with  now?  You  don't  say!  I  thought 
he  was  a  coach.  I  always  said  that  if  your  voice  was 
properly  placed  you  would  sing  beautifully  because  you 
are  so  temperamental.  That  is  a  perfect  love  of  a  hat. 
I  have  been  admiring  it  ever  since  you  came  in.  Your 
old  feather  boa?  Mercy!  Looks  just  like  a  French  crea- 
tion.   Now  do  come  in  again  soon.    It's  a  perfect  treat 


Ai^flKibr 


,m^^^^ 


Mrs.  Puflkbutton 


to  see  you.  Good-by!  "Well,"  said  Mrs.  Featherweight 
as  she  closed  the  door  "such  a  fright  of  a  hat.  It's  a  pity 
some  people  have  so  little  taste.  But  she  has  no  tem- 
perament and  that  makes  a  great  difference." 


I  Believe  She  Sleeps  m  Her  Black  Princess 


Mrs.  Featnerweight  on  ''Pelleas 
ana  Melisanae 


^^T  T  ORRORS,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Featherweight 
I  I  rolling  her  eyes  toward  the  ceiling.  "I  never 
want  to  hear  another  'lyric  drama,'  as  they 
call  it,  again.  You  thought  it  was  an  opera? 
Mercy!  No!  It  is  a  'lyric  drama'  and  the  most  absurd 
pose  imaginable.  George  says  it  must  be  a  perfect  cinch, 
whatever  that  means,  for  singers  who  are  losing  their 
voices  or  have  only  a  few  good  tones.  Mary  Garden 
is  at  her  best  in  it  because  she  doesn't  have  any  real 
singing  to  do,  so  her  shortcomings  vocally  are  not  so  ap- 
parent. The  man  who  sings,  or  rather  tries  to  sing 
'Pelleas'  has  the  poorest  excuse  for  a  singing  voice  I 
ever  heard,  and  yet  he  doesn't  damage  the  role  in  the 
least  so,  you  see,  almost  anybody  who  can  manage  the 
queer  intervals  and  act  fairly  well  will  do.  It's  a  mercy 
they  don't  call  it  an  opera  for  that  presupposes  rhythm, 
melody  and  all  the  other  necessary  equalities  that  go  to 
make  an  opera.  'Pelleas  and  Melisande'  is  simply  at- 
mosphere, and  depressing  atmosphere  at  that.  Atmos- 
phere is  all  very  well  as  a  background,  but  you  can't 
make  me  believe  that  recitative  alone  is  satisfying.  Mrs. 
Pushbutton  says  that  I  am  too  old-fashioned  and  did  not 
grasp  the  mystic  symbolism.  The  very  idea !  Wouldn't 
that  make  you  mad?  And  she  knows  as  much  about 
music  as  a  fish  does  about  chiffon.  Just  because  some- 
body said  she  resembles  Mary  Garden  you  can't  keep 
her  away  from  the  Manhattan  and  I  believe  she  sleeps 
in  her  black  princess.  She  never  wears  anything  else 
and  such  posing !  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  may  be  old- 
fashioned,  but  I  have  musical  perception  and  can 
grasp  the  fact  that  'Pelleas  and  Melisande'  is  purely 
an  affectation  in  musical  expression.  A  sort  of  a  con- 
scious effort  to  do  something  unusual.  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  you  cannot  do  anything  worth  while 


in  music  unless  it  comes  to  you  inspirationally,  and, 
without  satisfying  moments  of  pure  melody  and  a  de- 
finite rhythm,  it  can  never  last.  A  lyric  drama  is  neither 
good  opera  nor  good  drama  and  an  insincere  form  of 
expression.  Now  Wagner  I  loved  from  the  first  and 
even  Strauss  impressed  me,  in  spots,  but  I  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  Debussy  is  good  for  flavoring  pur- 
poses only.  That  stagey,  long  drawn  out  death  scene 
in  the  last  act  is  simply  tiresome.  'Pelleas'  is  killed 
without  making  a  gasp,  but  you  know  that  *Melisande' 
would  never  consent  to  die  without  a  chance  to  show  off. 
It  wasn't  a  bit  convincing  to  me.  There  was  a  girl  be- 
hind who  exclaimed,  *Oh!  dear!  I  just  hate  death 
scenes,  we  have  had  so  many  in  our  family!'  Sure  as 
I  am  sitting  here!  Wasn't  it  perfectly  awful?  I  guess 
she  didn't  realize  how  it  sounded,  poor  child.  I  was 
so  depressed  that  I  made  George  take  me  out  to  a  vaude- 
ville show  that  night  and  I  laughed  till  I  cried.  There 
was  a — — Oh!  must  you  go  so  soon?  I  declare  it  doesn't 
seen  a  moment  since  you  came.  Do  drop  in  often.  You 
are  a  perfect  treat.    Good-by ! 

"How  she  does  run  on !"  mused  Mrs.  Featherweight. 
"I  could  hardly  get  in  a  word,  but  I  was  determined  to 
tell  her  about  'Pelleas  and  Melisande.'  I  hope  she  tells 
Pushbutton  what  I  said  about  her." 


Everybody  Wanted  to  Know  Who  SKe  Was 


Mrs.  Featkerweiglit  Attends  a 
Musical  Breakfast 

4 4 XT  ES,  I  am  going  out  later.     Mrs.  Pushbutton 
I  begged  me  to  go  to  a  matinee  with  her  and, 

-*"  although  I  have  a  splitting  headache  and 

really  ought  to  be  in  bed,  she  simply 
would  not  let  me  off — said  I  needed  a  little 
diversion.  I  wish  we  were  more  congenial.  You  know 
I  have  the  artistic  temperament.  It  runs  in  our  family 
to  be  musical  and  have  thick  hair.  I  want  you  to  meet 
her.  People  simply  rave  about  her  figure.  She  calls 
it  svelte  but  I  think  she  is  nothing  but  skin  and  bone. 
Don't  you  hate  dark,  thin  women?  Somehow  I  never 
trust  them.  But  I  must  tell  you  about  the  Ladies  Aux- 
iliary Mendelssohn  Musical  Breakfast.  It  was  a  per- 
fectly elegant  affair.  All  the  members  wore  their  very 
best.  Each  member  was  allowed  to  bring  a  friend  so 
just  out  of  compliment  I  asked  Mrs.  Pushbutton,  not 
thinking  for  a  moment  that  she  would  accept,  as  she  had 
nothing  but  her  everlasting  black  princess  to  wear.  But 
mercy,  she  grabbed  the  invitation  as  if  it  were  some- 
thing good  to  eat — said  she  had  heard  so  much  about 
the  old  ladies  that  she  was  dying  to  meet  them.  Well, 
maybe  I  wasn't  mad !  I  told  her  that  they  might  be  old 
but  their  gowns  were  not.  I  said  that  hoping  she  would 
realize  that  it  was  to  be  a  dress  y  affair  and  not  go  but, 
bless  you,  she  said  it  couldn't  be  too  dressy  for  her.  And, 
my  dear,  what  that  woman  did  in  the  next  few  hours 
was  a  caution.  She  telephoned  her  sister,  a  perfectly 
lovely  woman,  large  and  blonde — not  a  bit  like  Mrs. 
Pushbutton — and  asked  her  to  send  down  her  silver  fox 
set.  The  most  beautiful  furs  you  ever  saw  and  so  ex- 
pensive. Did  you  ever  know  such  impertinence !  Then 
she  went  out  on  Columbus  Avenue  and  pretty  soon  I 
saw  her  coming  back  with  a  hat  in  a  bag.  And  such  a 
bargain !    Only  a  dollar  and  one  of  the  new  shapes.    And 


Rhinestone-Schmidt 
Accompanies  Herself   Superoly 


I  wish  you  could  see  it  now!  She  trimmed  it  with  an 
old  Spanish  lace  scarf.  You  would  never  believe  how 
stylish  it  looks.  Then  she  borrowed  a  string  of  puffs 
from  Mrs.  Upperfloor.  They  were  much  lighter  than 
her  own  hair — she  has  a  mere  wisp — but  she  said  that 
did  not  make  any  difference  if  you  had  temperament. 
Temperament !  Hmf .  Well,  at  any  rate,  you  never  saw 
such  a  transformation.  Everybody  was  asking  who  she 
was  and  sugar  wouldn't  melt  in  her  mouth  she  was  so 
sweet.  But  I  know  her  so  well  that  I  could  tell  from 
her  expression  that  she  was  dying  to  laugh  when  our 
president,  Madame  Rhinestone  Schmidt,  at  the  request 
of  the  members  sang  "Because"  to  her  own  superb  ac- 
companiment. To  be  sure  her  voice  is  not  what  it  once 
was,  but  she  has  a  beautiful  A  fiat,  and  anyway,  as  a 
guest,  I  think  Mrs.  Pushbutton  should  have  assum.ed  a 
different  expression.  When  Mrs.  Lowtone  read  a 
beautiful  paper  on  "Should  the  upper  tones  be  pinched," 
Mrs.  Pushbutton  had  the  impudence  to  suggest  that  the 
poor  things  should  be  given  their  freedom,  and  every- 
body laughed.  I  didn't  see  anything  to  laugh  at.  And 
this  morning  as  I  was  waiting  for  the  dumbwaiter,  I 
overheard  her  telling  Mrs.  Underneath  that  she  believed 
the  Ladies  Auxiliary  was  the  finest  collection  of  antiques 
in  town.  Oh!  Here  she  comes  now.  Well,  dearie,  I 
though  you  would  never  get  here  and  Mrs.  Waitingyet 
was  determined  to  meet  you  because  I  have  been  telling 
her  how  charming  you  are.  I  was  saying  to  George 
only  the  other  day  that  if  the  Pushbuttons  move  away 
from  here  we  will  go  too.  I  just  couldn't  live  without 
you,  dearie!  (Mrs.  Pushbutton  winked  at  her  new 
friend.)" 


Mrs.  FeatherAveignt  on  Musical 

Grafters 

^^XX  7  HO  is  your  fluffy  ruffles  friend  I  just  met 
W         going    out?"     asked  the    caller     as  Mrs. 

Featherweight  was  about  to  pour  a  cup  of 

tea. 

"My  friend?"  Mrs.  Featherweight  quickly 
put  the  tea-pot  down  and  held  up  her  hand  in  protest. 
"She  is  no  friend  of  mine  I  assure  you.  Cream  or 
lemon?  George  says  I  should  say  condensed  milk  as 
more  up-to-date.  Ha — Ha !  He  is  simply  the  most  im- 
possible man.  But  to  get  back  to  the  young  lady  you 
mentioned.  I  must  tell  you  that  she  is  a  musical  grafter. 
I  wonder  where  I  got  that  name.  Oh,  yes!  George  al- 
ways calls  her  that.  What  does  the  name  mean?  It  is 
easy  to  see  that  you  are  a  stranger  to  the  inner  musical 
circles  or  you  wouldn't  ask.  If  you  went  about  as  much 
as  I  do  to  receptions  with  music  and  studio  musicales 
with  tea  you  would  soon  learn.  Why,  do  you  know,  I 
can  pick  out  a  would-be  prima  donna  on  sight."  Mrs. 
Featherweight  waited  for  her  last  remark  to  sink  in 
and  then  continued.  "The  young  lady  is  a  fine  speci- 
men of  grafter.  You  thought  her  eyes  appealing,  I  sup- 
pose, and  her  hair  so  artistically  careless?  I  thought 
so!  Everybody  gets  that  impression  at  first.  Would 
you  believe  that  her  eyebrows  are  works  of  art  and  that 
careless  arrangement  of  hair  takes  an  hour  if  it  takes  a 
minute  to  perfect!  If  you  should  meet  her  to-morrow 
you  will  find  every  careless  hair  in  the  same  place  and 
the  appealing  expression  a  fixture.  .She  goes  every- 
where and  seems  always  ready  to  oblige  with  a  solo. 
Her  voice  is  rather  a  fine  one  naturally  and  no  prima 
donna  could  give  a  better  imitation  of  being  over- 
whelmed modestly  with  the  applause  she  receives. 
Sometimes  she  gets  very  little  but  she  acts  her  over- 
whelmed role  just  the  same.  People  say  the  first  time 
"Isn't  she  perfectly   charming?"     And   later  on   they 


Tnat  Appealing  Expression 


change  "charming"  to  "horrid."  I  did  my  best  to  avoid 
an  introduction  but  she  was  too  much  for  me.  Deliver 
me  from  people  with  that  appealing  expression.  After 
the  introduction  I  got  away  as  quickly  as  I  could  as 
I  thought  she  might  ask  what  I  thought  of  her  singing. 
I  am  truthful  above  all  things  and  no  one  ever  hears  me 
say  a  word  about  a  living  being  unless  to  their  credit. 
But  these  are  simply  facts.  Well,  what  do  you  suppose 
she  did?  You  would  never  believe  it.  Sent  me  six 
tickets,  two  dollars  and  a  half  each,  for  her  benefit  con- 
cert at  the  Waldorf.  Cheeky?  Well,  I  should  say,  and 
you  can  go  to  the  opera  for  a  dollar  and  a  half  and  tip 
the  usher  for  a  seat.  I  sat  right  down,  enclosed  the 
tickets  in  an  envelope  with  my  card,  and  sent  them 
back  and  glad  to  do  it.  Imagine  my  amazement  to  find 
them  in  my  mail  the  next  morning  with  a  note  saying 
that  she  must  insist  on  my  taking  them  and  disposing  of 
them  to  my  friends  as  she  had  a  dentist's  bill  to  pay. 
Just  as  true  as  gospel!  It  seems  incredible!  Even 
George  was  mad  about  it  and  he  settled  her  without 
ado.  What  brought  her  to-day?  My  dear,  she  came 
to  announce  her  engagement  to  Fitznoodle  with  perfect 
loads  of  money  and  likely  to  die  and  leave  her  a  rich 
widow.  Isn't  it  perfectly  frightful?  Somebody  ought 
to  tell  him.    I'll  speak  to  George." 


Mrs.  Featherweignt  on  Piano  Playing 

44T"^  ON'T  you  love  piano  playing?"  asked  Mrs. 
I  1  Featherweight.  "Music  is  such  an  absolute 
^-^  necessity  to  a  sensitive,  highly  strung  nature 
like  mine,  that  I  would  simply  die  if  I  didn't 
have  the  opera  and  concerts  to  keep  me  up.  Sometimes 
I  wish  I  wasn't  so  temperamental.  It  must  be  so  rest- 
ful to  be  free  from  the  yearnings  that  we  artistic  natures 
feel  can  never  be  satisfied  in  this  life.  A  piano  recital 
is  a  real  tonic  to  me.  Mrs.  Pushbutton,  the  woman  with 
that  frightfully  small  waist  whom  you  passed  on  the 
stairs,  says  that  it  is  pure  affectation  on  my  part  to  say 
that  I  like  Bach.  But  to  be  misunderstood  seems  to  be 
the  fate  of  lovers  of  the  beautiful.  She  was  crazy, 
however,  to  hear  Paderewski  because  she  had  heard  me 
rave  about  him — you  know  how  I  used  to  worship  his 
playing.  Well,  Mrs.  Underneath,  a  perfectly  dear 
woman — not  at  all  goodlooking  but  exquisite  taste  in 
dress,  lost  her  mother-in-law  just  after  she  had  bought 
seats  for  his  first  recital.  How  things  do  happen.  She 
felt  so  terribly  distressed  over  her  loss,  I  mean  of  the 
tickets  of  course,  that  I  bought  them  for  half  price  and 
that  was  some  consolation  to  her.  I  like  to  do  a  kind 
act  when  I  can.  I  was  going  anyway,  but  I  like  to  have 
company.  Even  Mrs.  Pushbutton  is  better  than  none. 
She  had  invited  me  to  go  with  her  that  morning  to  see 
some  tableaus  for  charity  so  I  had  to  ask  her.  If  I  had 
only  known  I  would  never  have  gone  to  the  tableaus, 
charity  or  no  charity.  My  dear,  what  do  you  suppose? 
She  had  cut  the  back  out  of  her  black  princess  gown  and 
posed  as  'The  Lady  With  a  Rose.'  It  was  positively 
indecent!  And  she  had  the  impudence  to  pretend  in- 
nocence when  I  just  told  her  what  I  thought  of  such 
carryings  on.  Said  she  did  it  for  charity.  'You  mean,' 
said  I  'that  you  wanted  to  show  your  back  And'  said 
she,  'isn't  it  charity  to  let  people  see  it  when  backs  are 
so  rare?'     I  wouldn't  have  done  it  for  all  the  gold  in 


Mrs.  Pusktutton  Posing  as 
"  Tlie  Lady  With  a  Rose 


Guinea.  But,  as  I  was  saying  about  Paderewski,  we 
had  the  loveHest  seats  in  the  second  row  and  I  was 
looking  forward  with  anticipations  of  pleasure  when  a 
most  disagreeable  thing  occurred.  A  little  skeezics  of 
a  man  behind  me  tried  to  make  me  take  off  my  hat.  He 
was  one  of  those  newspaper  critics  I  suppose.  I  just 
would  not  do  it,  as  I  had  on  a  flat  sailor  that  a  child 
could  see  over  without  standing  up.  I  could  tell  by  the 
looks  of  him  that  he  just  hates  women.  I  don't  see 
what  men  go  to  matinees  for  anyway.  They  are  perfect 
nuisances  and  have  no  consideration.  Anyway,  I  would 
have  died  rather  than  take  it  off  as  I  had  my  hair  done 
low  and  no  pompadour.  I  never  was  so  annoyed.  Oh! 
yes — about  Paderewski.  Deliver  me  from  such  piano 
pounding.  I  was  never  more  amazed  in  my  life  at  the 
deterioration  in  his  playing.  It  was  such  a  disappoint- 
ment. Why  little  Josef  Hofmann  is  so  far  ahead  of 
him  that  they  are  not  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  class. 
I  could  have  cried  every  time  Paderewski  thumped, 
literally  thumped,  a  heavy  chord,  it  was  so  unmusical. 
Another  idol  with  feet  of  clay.  I  didn't  open  the  piano 
for  days  until  I  heard  De  Pachmann  who  is  what  I  call 
a  piano  player,  not  a  piano  pounder.  He  brought  back 
my  desire  to  hear  more  so  I  opened  the  piano  again. 
When  we  got  up  to  go  I  turned  and  if  I  didn't  give  the 
man  behind  me  a  look,  I  wouldn't  say  so.  'Madam,' 
said  he,  'haven't  you  dropped  something?'  I  looked 
down  to  see  and  he  said :  'I  only  meant  your  manners.' 
Well  if  I  wasn't  mad.  I  drew  myself  up  and  said: 
'Keep  them  if  you  find  them,  you  need  them  more  than 
I  do.'  Sometimes  I  wonder  why  men  were  ever  born. 
Mrs.  Pushbutton  enjoyed  the  recital  so  much.  Found  it 
so  restful.    She  slept  throughout." 


I  Wore  My  OU  Black  Lace 


Mrs.  Featner^veight  Gives  an 
Informal  Musicale 

4^  I  ^  ON'T  ever  mention  her  name  to  me  again.'* 
II  Mrs.  Featherweight  was  really  vexed. 
-■-^  "Whose?  Why  Mrs.  Pushbutton's,  of  course. 
It  makes  me  so  mad  when  I  think  of  the 
deceitful  way  she  acted.  And  you  know  what 
friends  we  were.  Just  like  sisters  and  I  told  her 
everything.  But  after  last  night  I  shall  never  have 
much  confidence  in  her.  You  see,  Mrs.  Bumptious  has 
a  niece  stopping  with  her,  came  on  to  study  for  grand 
opera  and  will  accept  a  church  position  meanwhile. 
You  know  the  kind !  Knowing  how  musical  I  am,  Mrs. 
Bumptious  wanted  my  opinion  on  her  voice,  so  she 
called  me  on  the  phone  and  asked  if  she  might  bring  her 
over  the  next  night.  I  said  of  course  she  might  and  I 
would  ask  in  some  musical  friends.  I  am  always  trying 
to  make  life  pleasant  for  people,  although  I  never  get 
a  thank  you  for  it.  Sometimes  I  think  I  will  have  the 
phone  taken  out.  It  is  so  awfully  handy  that  before  I 
got  through  the  few  friends  had  become  a  regular  crowd. 
Well,  at  any  rate,  I  asked  my  nephew,  Willie  Stutterton 
Smythe,  the  tenor,  and  fortunately  he  had  nothing  on 
hand.  He  is  awfully  popular  so  I  considered  myself 
lucky.  Then  I  asked  Gussie  Gushington,  who  adores 
'Chopang,*  and  plays  that  sweet  thing  'Fruhlings- 
rauchen'  so  well.  Of  course  I  had  to  ask  Mrs.  Push- 
button, because  I  wanted  to  borrow  her  plates  for  the 
salad.  As  it  was  an  informal  affair  I  didn't  mind  asking 
her  although  I  knew  she  would  wear  that  rag  of  a  black 
princess.  I  wore  my  old  black  lace  and  only  a  few  pieces 
of  jewelry,  as  I  think  it  is  very  poor  taste  for  the  hostess 
to  be  too  dressy,  don't  you?  Everybody  but  Mrs.  Push- 
button had  arrived  and  Willie  was  about  to  sing 
'Dreaming,  Only  Dreaming,'  when  in  she  came  and  I 
had  to  clutch  the  table  to  keep  me  from  falling.     It 


Mrs.  Puslitutton  Sweeps  In 


wasn't  the  princess,  I  expected  that,  but  her  hair.  Would 
you  believe  it,  she  had  the  brazeness  to  have  it  arranged 
like  Geraldine  Farrar's  at  a  Sunday  night  concert,  piled 
high  w^ith  a  silver  green  ribbon  run  through  it.  She 
swept  in  and  greeted  me  as  if  she  hadn't  seen  me  for 
ages.  Such  deceit!  When  only  a  few  moments  before 
she  had  sent  me  up  her  plates  on  the  dumbwaiter. 
Everybody  had  their  eyes  on  her  and  poor  Willie  looked 
as  if  he  could  never  close  his  eyes  to  dream  again.  After 
things  settled  down  he  managed  to  sing  but  was  too 
excited  to  do  himself  justice.  I  heard  George  tell  Mrs. 
Pushbutton  that  it  wasn't  half  bad  if  you  didn't  look 
at  him.  So  insulting!  And  my  own  nephew.  On  top 
of  that  she  had  the  impertinence  to  tell  Willie  that  she 
thought  his  voice  would  repay  cultivation,  and  he  has 
been  with  Dewem  Good,  the  voice  placer,  for  six  years. 
Then  Gussie  played  and  everybody  talked.  She  is  so 
temperamental  she  never  noticed  it  and  kept  right  on. 
But  afterwards  I  heard  her  ask  Mrs.  Pushbutton  if  she 
didn't  think  Brahm's  perfectly  adorable  and  she  told 
her  that  she  had  never  seen  any.  Gussie  looked  so 
pained.  She  is  so  sensitive.  I  felt  sorry  for  her.  Then 
that  husband  of  mine  insisted  on  Mrs.  Pushbutton  play- 
ing ragtime  and  I  could  have  strangled  him.  After  that 
I  gave  up.  What  can  you  do  if  your  husband  has  no 
sense  of  dignity.  She  began  telling  funny  stories  and 
everybody  simply  screamed  with  laughter  although  I 
failed  to  see  why.  You  would  think  it  was  her  party. 
I  thought  Mrs.  Bumptious  would  be  mad  as  hops,  but 
she  said  she  would  rather  hear  a  good  story  than  a  song 
any  day  and  she  would  bring  her  niece  some  other  time. 
And  the  niece  didn't  mind  either.  But  I  did  and  I  was 
as  cool  as  you  please.  I  simply  couldn't  get  over  Mrs. 
Pushbutton  not  letting  me  know  she  was  going  to  wear 
her  hair  that  way." 


Gussie  Gusmngton 
I  Simply  Adore  Cnopang! 


3 


Willie  Stutterton  Smytke 


Mrs.  Fcatkcrweiglit  m  Prmceee 


Mrs.  Pushoutton  Entertains 

i^TT  M!"  sniffed  Mrs.  Featherweight,  "Mrs.  Push- 
I  I  button  thinks  that  her  afternoons  at  home 
even  up  all  her  social  obligations.  For  my 
part,  I  consider  it  a  cheap  way  when  you  ac- 
cept other  people's  invitations  as  much  as  she  does.  Oh ! 
yes,  I  know  she  always  has  a  crowd  and  they  profess  to 
have  a  good  time.  But  what  do  they  ever  get  but  a 
cup  of  tea  and  a  wafer  or  at  the  very  most  a  chafing  dish 
dinner  which  is  simply  an  apology.  George  is  crazy 
about  her  rarebits  and  Mr.  Pushbutton  seems  to  think 
she  beats  any  chef  that  ever  lived.  Poor  man,  I  don't 
believe  he  gets  enough  to  eat.  No,  he  doesn't  appear  to 
be  starved  but  he  is  like  I  am,  large  and  commanding, 
and  a  small  appetite.  He  should  be  urged  to  eat  more. 
Really,  sometimes  I  wonder  how  I  ever  live  when  I  eat 
so  little.  But  I  was  going  to  tell  you  about  Mrs.  Push- 
button's musicale  with  bridge.  It  was  really  swell.  I 
never  knew  that  she  was  acquainted  with  so  many 
musical  people.  But  I  suppose  she  plausied  them  up 
in  that  honey  sweet  way  of  hers  and  they  came  because 
they  didn't  know  how  to  refuse  gracefully.  And,  would 
you  believe  it,  she  had  printed  programs  for  the  music 
and  a  caterer.  You  can't  be  up  to  her,  she  is  such  a  deep 
one.  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  worlds,  although  I 
was  so  fagged  out  from  shopping  with  her  that  morn- 
ing I  was  ready  for  the  doctor.  The  way  that  woman 
scurried  around  hunting  for  ready-made  suits — you 
know  she  has  a  ready-made  figure  and  can  wear  any- 
thing— was  astonishing.  I  wouldn't  wear  a  ready-made 
gown  if  you  paid  me.  I  never  go  in  that  store  but  I  am 
insulted.  It  makes  me  so  mad  because  I  wouldn't  buy 
a  paper  of  pins  there.  But  Mrs.  Pushbutton  will  go 
anywhere  if  she  smells  a  bargain.  We  had  no  more  than 
got  inside  the  door  when  one  of  those  common  clerks 
said  'extra  sizes  on  the  third  floor,  madam,'  and  I  had 
on  my  dark  green  walking  suit  that  makes  me  look  so 


TLe  Lionese  of  tKe  Piano 


much  smaller.  But  as  I  was  saying,  the  musicale  was 
simply  delightful.  I  would  go  anywhere  for  music. 
Madame  Ripplingscale,  the  pianist,  was  the  lioness  of 
the  evening.  The  way  she  swept  those  keys  from  one 
end  of  the  piano  to  the  other  was  simply  enchanting. 
I  wish  I  had  kept  up  my  practice;  I  had  such  strong 
fourth  fingers.  Then  Percy  McGuinness  sang  selections 
from  'Faust.'  Have  you  ever  heard  him  in  opera? 
Perfectly  dear  and  he  has  a  high  C  almost  as  good  as 
Caruso's.  His  'Celesta  Aida'  did  not  go  so  well,  but 
afterwards  he  sang  a  group  of  Irish  songs  in  Italian 
that  were  perfectly  fascinating.  The  program  closed 
with  recitations  by  Flora  MacWhorter  Dubbs,  who  im- 
provises her  accompaniments.  She  was  a  perfect  picture 
in  pink  brocade  and  I  never  knew  anybody  look  more 
soulful  at  the  piano.  I  wore  purple  velvet  made  princess 
and  maybe  Mrs.  Pushbutton's  eyes  didn't  stick  out  when 
she  saw  me.  She  hinted  one  day  that  large  women 
couldn't  wear  princess  and  I  guess  she  changed  her  mind 
when  I  appeared.  George  said  I  looked  queenly  and  I 
guess  for  once  he  was  right,  although  a  man's  opinion 
about  anything  doesn't  amount  to  much.  Hm!  yes, 
she  wore  her  black  princess." 


I  Never  Sa-w  Anytody  So  Soulful  at  tke  Piano 


Percy  McGuinness 


Mrs.  Featkerweigkt  Sings  for  tke 
Cnaminade  Club 

44^T  O,  really,  I  am  not  going  out  for  an  hour  yet. 
1^        Now,  do  sit  down!"    Mrs.  Featherweight's 
-^  caller  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  while 

that  worthy  lady  began  the  ceremony  of 
putting  on  her  new  spring  hat.  "You  know,"  she  rat- 
tled on,  "there  is  real  art  in  getting  a  hat  on  at  just 
the  right  angle.  You  would  never  guess  what  I  paid 
for  this!  Six  thirty-eight  reduced  from  thirty-four 
seventy- three !  One  of  the  new  shapes.  Do  you  like 
it?  So  few  can  wear  the  high  crown,  but  the  clerk  said 
it  was  most  becoming  to  me  on  account  of  my  face 
being — er — a — round.  I  bought  it  in  a  hurry  to  wear 
to  the  first  meeting  of  the  Jersey  Chaminade 
Club.  They  invited  me  to  sing  and,  although 
I  haven't  sung  for  ages,  I  thought  I  would  try. 
Of  course,  being  a  ladies'  club  and  named  after 
Chaminade,  I  thought  I  ought  to  sing  one  of  her 
songs,  so  I  asked  Mrs.  Pushbutton  about  it  and  she  of- 
fered me  two  albums  of  Chaminade  songs  to  select  from. 
I  had  no  idea  she  had  written  so  many.  You  know  I 
never  cared  very  much  about  women  composers  any- 
way. That's  one  thing  I  give  men  credit  for  doing  bet- 
ter than  women.  Well,  I  never  can  learn  anything 
from  an  album,  I  was  brought  up  on  sheet  music,  so 
Mrs.  Pushbutton  selected  'A  Madrigal,'  a  queer  sort  of 
French  thing,  and  after  the  music  came  I  practiced  like 
a  perfect  slave  to  get  it  ready.  Mrs.  Pushbutton  said 
to  sing  any  old  thing  and  call  it  Chaminade  and  they 
wouldn't  know  the  difference,  but  I  am  above  all  things 
conscientious.  Well,  I  was  in  fine  form  before  I  started. 
You  know  the  ladies  of  Jersey  felt  the  need  of  culture 
and  decided  that  there  is  nothing  like  a  music  club  to 
elevate  the  condition  of  the  lower  classes  and  give  tone 
to  the  town.  Somebody  suggested  calling  the  club  by 
the  name  of  some  one  of  our  American  composers,  but 


So  Few  Can  Wear  tLe  HigL  Crown 


they  were  all  so  easy  to  pronounce  so  that  was  voted 
down.  How  is  Chaminade  pronounced  an5rway?  You 
don't  say!  How  queer.  Well,  Mrs.  Rocks  being  the 
richest  woman  in  town,  was  elected  president,  of  course, 
although  she  doesn't  know  a  note  from  a  pound  of  but- 
ter. But  she  has  a  perfectly  lovely  house  for  meetings 
and  when  I  arrived  I  found  the  greatest  commotion.  It 
seems  the  secretary  of  the  club  is  going  to  be  married 
and  had  forgotten  to  notify  Mrs.  Rocks  that  the  meet- 
ing was  to  be  held  at  her  house  and  when  the  members 
arrived  they  were  told  that  she  was  in  bed  with  an  attack 
of  grippe  and  sent  down  word — she  is  horribly  practi- 
cal— that  she  wouldn't  come  down  for  Chaminade  her- 
self. I  didn't  blame  her  after  seeing  Chaminade's  photo- 
graph. My  dear,  no  style  whatever.  But  Mrs.  Rocks 
said  to  make  ourselves  at  home,  so  the  meeting  was 
called  to  order  by  Mrs.  Knockem,  who  wore  the  only 
other  high  crown  and  is  frightfully  intellectual.  Spent 
two  days  getting  a  paper  on  Chaminade  from  the  en- 
cyclopaedia. But  the  most  awful  thing  happened.  One 
of  the  ladies  started  the  question  of  whether  the  new 
High  School  should  be  built  on  the  east  or  the  west 
side  and  such  screaming  you  never  heard  in  your  life. 
They  nearly  came  to  blows.  It  was  simply  scandalous. 
Mrs.  Knockem  rapped  for  order  and  begged  them  to  be 
quiet  as  I  was  going  to  sing,  but  they  just  backed  out 
into  the  dining  room  and  hallway  and  kept  at  it  harder 
than  ever.  Of  course,  it  was  useless  to  sing  *A  Madri- 
gal' then  and  I  had  to  catch  the  six  thirty  train.  So  I 
came  away.  Wasn't  is  perfectly  horrible?  Oh!  Yes.  I 
am  going  to  the  next  meeting.  You  know  I  love  ex- 
citement." 


I  Looked  Like  a  Nun  Beside   He 


Mrs.  Featkerw^eiglit  on  Voice  Placing 

4ty^  RACIOUS!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Featherweight, 
I  y  sinking  into  a  chair,  "don't  speak  to  me  until 
^^^  I  get  my  breath.  If  I  haven't  put  in  a 
day,"  she  continued,  before  anybody  could 
interrupt  her,  "then  I  wouldn't  say  so.  You  know  how 
Mrs.  Bumptious  bragged  about  that  niece  of  hers  being 
such  a  fine  singer.  Well,  this  morning  she  called  me  on 
the  'phone  and  wanted  my  advice  about  a  teacher  and 
said  she  would  be  indebted  beyond  words  if  I  would 
suggest  somebody  who  would  be  able  to  give  Clytie 
— her  name  is  Clytemnestra  Smoggs — ^some  finishing 
lessons.  As  a  friend,  there  was  nothing  left  for  me  in 
all  common  decency  to  do  but  offer  to  help  her  find  one. 
All  the  teachers  I  ever  studied  with  are  dead  and  buried 
so  I  called  Mrs.  Pushbutton  to  the  dumbwaiter  and 
before  I  hardly  got  the  words  out  of  my  mouth  she  vol- 
unteered to  go  with  us.  And  the  questions  she  asked 
those  teachers !  You  may  smile,  George,  but  I  was  sim- 
ply mortified  beyond  everything.  Mrs.  Bumptious  had 
an  appointment  at  the  dentist's — she  is  getting  a  full 
upper  set  made  with  gold  filling  in  the  front,  as  natural 
as  life — so  she  couldn't  go  and  we  met  Clytie  on  the 
corner.  She  was  a  sight  to  behold.  Really  I  looked 
like  a  nun  beside  her.  Mrs.  Pushbutton  said  her  gown 
was  a  scream  and  her  hat  a  yell,  whatever  she  meant  by 
that.  Well,  the  first  one  we  called  on  was  Herr  Laut- 
stimme,  a  very  impressive  man,  and  he  explained  all 
about  abdominal  breathing  and  asked  Mrs.  Pushbutton 
to  feel  how  he  breathed,  but  she  had  the  grace  to  refuse. 
Then  he  roared  some  tones.  Well,  George,  you  know 
my  ear  and  how  sensitive  I  am.  I  couldn't  stand  for 
that  and  we  came  away  without  Clytie  having  sung. 
Anyway,  I  think  a  girl  should  study  with  a  woman,  be- 
cause women  are  so  much  more  sympathetic  than  men. 
So  we  called  on  Mme.  Sangfroid,  who  doesn't  believe 
in  anything  but  chest  breathing  and  thinks  men  are  dis- 


XTerr  Lautstimme 


gusting  creatures.  I  rather  liked  her  until  she  began  to 
illustrate  her  method  and  I  could  see  Mrs.  Pushbutton 
was  going  to  ask  some  foolish  question  and  I  made  an 
excuse  to  get  away  before  she  had  time  to  say  anything. 
Then  we  saw  Miss  Tremolo  Pyker's  name  on  a  door  and 
rang  the  bell.  Miss  Pyker  doesn't  believe  in  breathing 
at  all  and  said  the  secret  of  voice  placing  was  all  in  the 
nose.  And  before  I  could  stop  her  Mrs.  Pushbutton 
asked  if  the  size  of  the  nose  made  any  difference  in  the 
size  of  the  voice.  Well,  maybe  Miss  Pyker  didn't  give 
her  a  look !  Unfortunately,  she  had  her  artist  pupil  sing 
for  us,  and  the  way  she  growled  her  way  through  *0  mia 
Fernando'  without  getting  any  nearer  her  nose  than 
the  throat,  convinced  me  that  Miss  Pyker  would  never 
do  and  we  backed  out  as  gracefully  as  we  could.  It  is 
so  easy  to  get  in,  but,  mercy,  the  getting  out  is  so  em- 
barrassing. Sig  Pullamini  was  the  next  one  and  he 
talked  Italian  all  the  time  and  I  didn't  know  a  word  he 
said,  but  Mrs.  Pushbutton  acted  as  if  she  had  been  born 
in  Italy.  .  And  the  only  word  she  knew  was  *scala,'  which 
she  said  means  stepladder.  How  she  knew  so  much 
about  Italian  is  more  than  I  can  fathom.  After  we  left 
Sig.  Pullamini  we  must  have  seen  a  dozen  others  and 
you  wouldn't  believe  how  many  ways  there  are  to 
breathe  and  all  the  teachers  seem  to  have  a  different 
part  of  the  anatomy  for  the  placing  of  the 
voice.  One  said  it  was  caused  by  vibrations 
of  the  spine  and  another  that  it  struck  the  top  of 
the  head  and  exploded  in  tone  waves.  Well,  I  can't 
remember  all,  but  it  v/as  very  instructive  if  you  could 
grasp  it.  Mrs.  Pushbutton  asked  one  man  if  he  thought 
it  wrong  to  force  the  voice  out  through  the  ears  instead 
of  the  mouth  and  the  poor  man  looked  so  bewildered. 
But  what  do  you  think !  The  last  one  we  called  on  in- 
stantly informed  us  that  he  charged  two  dollars  for 
hearing  voices.  The  very  idea !  I  never  heard  of  such 
a  thing.  But  he  had  perfectly  lovely  eyes.  Mrs.  Push- 
button said,  without  asking  me,  that  she  thought  it  very 
right  that  he  should  and  would  he  kindly  give  his  honest 


Clyti 


opinion  about  the  young  lady's  voice.  We  had  not  heard 
her  up  to  that  moment.  He  immediately,  without  say- 
ing a  word  about  how  wonderful  he  was  himself,  asked 
her  to  sing.  She  opened  her  roll  and  handed  him  a 
piece  of  music.  And,  George,  to  my  dying  day  I  shall 
never  forget  Clytemnestra  Smoggs'  singing  of  *I  Love 
and  the  World  Is  Mine.'  You  couldn't  call  it  singing. 
Mrs.  Pushbutton  said  afterward  that  it  is  a  wonder  he 
didn't  have  us  arrested.  But  he  was  nice  as  could  be 
and  told  her  the  honest  truth  about  her  voice.  And  how 
did  she  take  it?  Why  she  said  she  didn't  think  much  of 
the  teachers  in  New  York  and  she  guessed  she  would  go 
to  Paris.    Did  you  ever?" 


I  Drew  Myself  Up  and  Swept  Out 


Mrs.  Featkerweiglit  Hears  Tetrazzini 

i4"myrERCY!  Don't  sit  on  that  chair!"  almost 
\/|  shrieked  Mrs.  Featherweight.  "You  know," 
"*--*-  she  explained,  "how  velvet  takes  the  pattern 
of  a  cane  seat.  I  had  my  black  velvet  coat 
absolutely  ruined  by  that  very  chair.  But  it  is  an  ill 
wind  that  doesn't  blow  somebody  good.  I  gave  it  to 
the  cook.  George  says  she  had  a  whole  suit  made  out  of 
it  and  gave  the  rest  to  the  poor.  To  hear  him  talk  you 
would  suppose  I  was  a  perfect  mountain.  He  is  just  as 
provoking  as  ever.  You  know  everybody  that  is  any- 
body at  all  wants  to  hear  Tetrazzini  once,  at  least,  if 
only  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  being  up-to-date,  but  you 
can't  get  that  man  to  budge  toward  anything  but  vaude- 
ville. I  have  simply  given  up  trying  to  make  him  ac- 
cept culture  and  the  New  Thought.  Have  I  heard  her? 
Yes,  indeed!  I  always  make  it  a  point  to  hear  all  the 
famous  singers.  It  is  so  broadening  and  educational. 
Mrs.  Pushbutton  very  kindly  offered  to  go  with  me,  at 
her  own  expense,  of  course.  She  raves  about  Mary 
Garden,  so  you  see  she  can't  be  very  musical.  But  any 
port  in  a  storm.  I  had  to  accept  her  or  go  alone.  And 
such  a  mortifying  experience  as  I  had  getting  tickets. 
I  was  standing  at  the  window  trying  to  make  up  my 
mind  whether  to  take  aisle  seats  or  farther  back  in  the 
center,  when  I  heard  somebody  in  the  line  say:  'Please 
ask  Tetrazzini  to  hurry  up?'  'Where  is  she?'  asked 
somebody  and  the  same  voice  said  :*The  fat  woman  at 
the  window.'  I  was  simply  enraged  because,  as  usual, 
I  was  quietly  dressed,  I  always  try  to  keep  from  ex- 
tremes, and  I  drew  myself  up  and  swept  out  of  that 
place  in  a  way  that  must  have  impressed  those  people 
that  I  could  be  dignified  if  I  am — er — stout.  I  went 
right  out  and  bought  the  seats  from  a  speculator,  al- 
though against  my  principles.  I  asked  him,  just  through 
curiosity,  if  he  lost  any  money  on  'Pelleas  and  Meli- 
sande,'  and  what  do  you    suppose   the   wretch   said? 


'Madam,'  said  he,  'while  you  were  asleep,  we  lost  thou- 
sands of  dollars.' 

"  'Serves  you  right,'  said  I,  'for  doing  the  public* 

"And  he  had  the  impertinence  to  say  to  my  face :  'We 
have  to  do  'em  to  live.' 

"Really,"  Mrs.  Featherweight  assumed  her  most  vir- 
tuous expression,  "I  don't  know  what  we  are  coming 
to  when  such  people  get  so  familiar  with  their  betters. 
I  was  telling  Mrs.  Pushbutton  about  it  and  she  said 
that  this  is  a  free  country  and  that  he  probably  consid- 
ered himself  my  equal.  She  is  the  most  provoking  per- 
son. Sometimes  she  makes  me  so  mad  I  think  I  will 
never  speak  to  her  again,  but  it  wouldn't  make  any  im- 
pression. She  would  simply  laugh  at  me^ — Oh  Yes!  I 
forgot  all  about  Tetrazzini.  How  did  I  like  her  sing- 
ing? Well,  you  see,  my  dear,  Sembrich  is  my  idol.  What 
has  that  to  do  with  it?  Why  everything,  of  course. 
Sembrich  is  in  the  same  class,  but  there  is  this  difference: 
Sembrich  is  an  artist  and  Tetrazzini  is  simply  a  singer. 
Yes.  I  agree  with  you,  a  natural  born  singer,  with  an 
electrifying  upper  register  and  amazing  facility.  But  it 
only  goes  to  prove  that  nature  can  be  improved  upon 
and  it  takes  brains  to  do  the  improving.  Now  I  had  just 
such  a  high  register,  but  everybody  exclaimed  over  the 
beautiful  evenness  throughout,  not  a  break  for  two  oc- 
taves and  a  half  and Oh !  I  am  so  sorry  you  must  go. 

You  come  so  seldom.  I  was  saying  to  George  only  the 
other  day Well,  good-by ! 

"If  that  isn't  always  the  way  with  sopranos!"  Mrs. 
Featherweight  was  indignant.  "If  you  let  them  talk 
about  their  own  voices  they  are  perfectly  happy,  but 
mention  your  own  and  they  can't  get  away  fast  enough. 
Humph!" 


Mrs.  Featlierwciglit's|Grcen 
Walking  Suit 


Mrs.  Fcatnerweight  s  Dearest  Friend 

ttXjr  OW  the  winter  has  flown!"  Mrs.  Feather- 
I  I  weight's  chubby  face  tried  to  express  her 
surprise  at  the  flight  of  time.  "Mrs.  Push- 
button, my  dearest  friend,  was  saying  the 
same  thing  this  afternoon.  I  declare  the  weeks  go  by 
before  one  knows  it  and  not  a  thing  done — I  mean  to- 
ward the  spring  sewing.  I  hadn't  a  stitch  to  wear,  but 
Mrs.  Pushbutton  insisted  on  my  having  her  sewing 
woman  this  week.  She  is  perfectly  lovely  that  way.  Such 
a  true  friend  and  so  considerate  and  appreciative.  I 
don't  believe  she  has  a  selfish  bone  in  her  body.  Only 
yesterday  she  complimented  me  on  my  fair  complexion 
and  said  she  had  always  envied  me  my  fine  skin.  You 
know  she  is  dark,  but  really  quite  pretty  and  has  a  fine 
figure — for  a  thin  woman.  She  is  stunning  in  her  black 
princess  and  I  told  her  that  if  I  looked  as  well  in  it  as 
she  does  I  would  never  wear  anything  else.  She  has  a 
new  gown — London  smoke,  the  new  shade,  that  is 
lovely,  but  I  am  used  to  the  princess.  Her  taste  in  hats 
is  wonderful  and  she  has  a  new  one  that  she  says  is  just 
my  style.  You  know  I  can  carry  off  a  large  hat  so  well. 
She  says  I  am  so  artistic.  Of  course,  I  am,  but  I  was 
born  so  and  its  no  credit  to  me  if  I  show  taste.  We 
went  to  a  recital  yesterday  and  Mrs.  Pushbutton  said 
she  never  saw  me  look  better.  I  will  say  for  her  that 
she  did  look  swell  herself.  You  would  never  guess  that 
her  suit  was  a  bargain  and  she  trimmed  the  hat  herself. 
Next  to  music  I  adore  hats.  Gladys  Faraway  and  Bos- 
tona  Emerson  sat  in  the  front  row  and  Mrs.  Pushbutton 
said  they  would  queer  any  performance.  She  is  sensi- 
tive to  environment  as  I  am,  and  so  musical.  You'd 
be  surprised.  Bostona  pulls  her  hair  into  such  a  tight 
knob  at  the  back  that  George  says  he  can't  see  how 
she  can  turn  a  corner.  I  don't  know  what  he  means, 
but  it  sounds  funny.  When  we  were  coming  out  we 
came  face  to  face  with  her  and  Mrs.  Pushbutton,  to  be 


Gladya  Fara^vay 


polite,  asked  her  how  she  enjoyed  the  playing  and  she 
said  that  he  missed  a  thirty-second  note  on  page  twenty. 
And  I  said  I  hadn't  noticed  it.  Mrs.  Pushbutton  laughed 
until  she  cried.  Something  struck  her  funny.  She  has 
a  keen  sense  of  humor  like  myself.  That  is  why  we  are 
so  congenial.  She  said  Bostona  escaped  becoming  a 
countess  on  account  of  her  face.  It  seemed  the  count 
heard  she  was  an  heiress  and  Mrs.  Pushbutton  offered 
to  introduce  him.  But  when  he  saw  Bostona's  face  he 
fell  back  and  exclaimed,  *Mon  Dieu !  She  is  impossible !' 
And  you  couldn't  blame  him.  Have  you  never  met  Mrs. 
Pushbutton?  Well  I  must  arrange  a  meeting.  Every- 
body admires  her  and  she  is  simply  dear  after  you  get 
to  know  her.  We  are  inseparable  on  account  of  being  so 
congenial.  In  fact,  we  have  become  so  chummy  that  I 
insisted  upon  her  calling  me  by  my  first  name — Daisy." 


6o8tona  Bmerson 


Mm.  Pusktutton's  Spring  Costume 


U    C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


<:D55DflEED3 


585964 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


